


Out the Front Gates

by Snooky



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-30
Updated: 2012-11-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 02:11:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snooky/pseuds/Snooky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of chapters reflecting the last day at Stalag 13. originally published on fanfiction.net in 2009</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hogan

"I said I would walk out through the front gates when the tanks rolled in. I'm not going back on my promise." Colonel Robert Hogan struggled to his feet. Weeks of illness and starvation level rations in the last months of the war had taken its toll on the commanding officer. "And there's still too much to do before we leave."

Hogan looked at the four men standing before him. Newkirk, LeBeau, Carter and Kinchloe had insisted on remaining with the Colonel until all other prisoners were safely evacuated. Weak and sick themselves, they had still managed to successfully refuse Hogan's orders to leave. After three years of constant danger and fear, half-hearted threats of court-martials and demotions were definitely not enough to persuade them to abandon their leader at the very end. Their last order was to blow the tunnels and destroy all evidence of their secret operation. They were determined to follow these orders and complete this mission as a team.

"We've taken care of everything, Colonel. The charges are ready. All we need are your orders." Carter sounded uncharacteristically quiet and unenthusiastic.

"All our stuff is packed and loaded on the last truck, Colonel," said LeBeau.

"I want to take one last look." Hogan headed for the tunnel entrance under Kinch's bunk. Kinch was now sleeping on the other side of the barracks. There was no need to hide the entrance any longer.

"Let me help you, Sir." Kinch offered his hand and assisted the Colonel down the ladder.

Hogan accepted his help. Stepping off the bottom rung he began to take a look around the tunnel. He could see the explosives were in place. Hogan did not bother to check the wires. After three years, he was fully confident in Carter's abilities to handle a demolition. He slowly and wistfully worked his way through the passageways. It's almost a shame we couldn't leave these here. All this work, all those lives. But orders were orders. Hogan sighed. Nah, it's safer this way. Confident that all traces of the traveler's aide society, as he liked to call it, would be erased. Hogan made his way back to the entrance under Kinch's bunk.

Looking at Carter, Hogan quietly asked, "How much time do we have?"

"Ten minutes," Carter replied.

"It's a go. Let's get out of here."

Several tanks, a few jeeps and a medical evacuation truck were waiting outside the Stalag. There were only a few men left from the original battalion that had liberated the camp. Orders from General Eisenhower's staff had informed them that Colonel Hogan, the ranking POW officer, was in command and that the camp was to be demolished. No questions asked.

They waited for the last five prisoners.

Hogan, Newkirk, LeBeau, Carter and Kinchloe stepped up to the front gate. Hogan addressed the American lieutenant standing at the entrance. "We have ten minutes."

"I understand, sir." Instinct told the lieutenant that offering assistance to any of these men at this stage would be pointless.

He stepped aside.

Newkirk, LeBeau, Carter, Kinchloe and then Hogan walked out of the Stalag through the front gates. They never looked back.

Ten minutes later, from a safe distance, they heard the explosions. The medic riding with them jumped. None of the five former prisoners moved a muscle. None of the five former prisoners made a comment. It was over.


	2. Klink

No resistance. No fighting back. There was no point. Klink had realized months ago that an allied victory was inevitable. For the second time in his life, he was about to see his country defeated and in ruins. The best way to handle this was to surrender, peacefully, like the officer and gentleman he was. All he could pray for now was that the liberators showed mercy.

Colonel Hogan had shown up in his office that morning. Although slowed down somewhat by the hard conditions of the last few months, the man still appeared unflappable and confident. The two stared at each other for several seconds. Klink knew what was coming.

Hogan's voice was soft and calm. He spoke slowly as if he needed to make sure that Klink completely understood everything he was about to tell him. "Kommandant, the Americans will be here in less than three hours."

"How do you know that, Hogan?" How many times have I asked him that same question?

Hogan paused. It looked as if he wanted to tell Klink something, something important, but he held it back. Instead he just clasped his cap in his hands, moving it around as if he needed something to do. "I just know, Sir. Can't you hear the artillery?" he added.

"I've been hearing the artillery for weeks!" Klink turned away and looked out the window. He was scared and unsure of himself and he really did not want Hogan to see him in this position. Klink had received orders from Berlin weeks ago threatening retribution to any officers that did not fight to hold their position. But there was no one left in Berlin to enforce these orders. Burkhalter had disappeared. Hitler was in hiding and the local Gestapo office was in ruins. How could he possibly fight, with a guard contingent made up of old men and boys? No, he had made his decision weeks ago. There would be no fighting.

"Colonel Hogan?"

Hogan looked at Klink expectantly.

"We won't fight back. I've never had a violent death at this prison camp and I won't have one now."

"Thank you, Sir." Hogan did not look surprised.

How do you handle a surrender of a prison camp? "When my guards in the towers spot the tanks, we'll stand down." Still unsure of himself, Klink looked at Hogan for approval.

"That will be fine, Kommandant. You'll make sure your guards will know what to do? I don't want any unforeseen accidents."

Klink nodded. "I'll brief them shortly. Right now, I need to be alone." He looked up at Hogan who was heading for the door. "Hogan, wait." Hogan turned around. "Thank you."

Hogan offered an actual proper military salute and left Klink alone in his office. Hogan's unusual military bearing made Klink nervous. Is he being respectful because I'm a condemned man?

The tanks had rolled in three hours later, just as Hogan had predicted. Klink and his guards stood nervously in the compound, their weapons scattered on the ground in front of them. The surrender had gone as planned with no shooting from either side. Klink watched as Hogan stepped up to the tank that had come to a stop inside the front gate. Other vehicles slid in alongside. The guards remained quiet as prisoners slowly began exiting their barracks. They moved towards the center of the compound in a daze, as if they could not quite believe that what was happening was real.

The tank lid slowly opened to reveal an American soldier. A captain, from the looks of it, Klink thought. The captain and Hogan looked at each other for a brief second and then a huge smile broke out on Hogan's face. For one of the few times in his life, Hogan was almost speechless. "Boy, are we glad to see you," was the only thing he could think of to say.

At that moment, the prisoners erupted. Joyous yells, hollering and whooping took over the compound as one-by-one the liberating soldiers exited the tanks, jeeps and trucks that had entered the camp.

Klink watched as Hogan and the American captain carried on a brief conversation. The captain, followed by ten other soldiers, then made their way over to Klink and his guards. Humiliated, Klink now found himself the prisoner listening to instructions from his captor.

"You will all be removed from this camp today and taken to a processing center. From there you will be assigned to an Allied POW camp for the duration of the war." Looking at Klink, the captain continued. "I will assure you that your men will be treated fairly as long as there is cooperation. As for you, Kommandant, Allied Command will be conducting an investigation of conditions in this camp. For your sake, I hope you have complied with the Geneva Convention." The captain turned to his men and instructed them to hold the German prisoners in the recreation hall until transportation could be arranged.

Trying to preserve his dignity, Klink did not speak or make a protest to his captors. He just morosely followed the guards into the recreation hall and awaited his fate.

There was little talking in the few hours the Germans waited for their transfer. Most of the guards were too scared and stunned to think about anything else. Schultz spent a great deal of time calming the younger boys, trying to reassure them that the Allies were not the monsters spoken of in propaganda films.

Klink meanwhile, tried to remember if he had indeed destroyed all of the necessary paperwork and tried to console himself with the fact that he had not, in his mind, ever abused the prisoners. Knowing what he now knew about the Third Reich, he only hoped the Allies would believe it.

"Kommandant Klink?"

Klink looked up to see an American soldier standing next to him. "Yes."

"We're ready to remove you and the rest of the prisoners."

"I understand." Klink looked around for his Sergeant at Arms and then issued the final order of his career. "Schultz, prepare the guards for transport."

Glumly, the German contingent marched out of the hall and into the waiting trucks, the catcalls of the prisoners echoing in their ears. As the trucks began to move out of the compound, supply trucks, medical units and transport vehicles lined up outside the gates, waiting their turn to enter the camp.

Klink noticed that Hogan was watching every move. He and his men were standing about fifty yards from the front gate. As he and Schultz were about to climb into the last truck, Hogan walked over to the convoy.

"Yes, Hogan? As you can see I'm a little busy right now." That didn't come out right. Klink was so used to the banter between him and Hogan that he could not help but sound irritated.

Hogan's eyes twinkled at this response from Klink; a line he had heard many times after barging into the Kommandant's office. "I'll be speaking with Allied Command. I'll put in a good word for you, Wilhelm."

Klink ignored the lack of protocol. What was the point? He was no longer in charge.

"Thank you Robert." Klink saluted Hogan and climbed into the truck. He took a last look at the Stalag and stole one last glance at the enigmatic young Colonel. Was I really in total command of this camp? Klink doubted it. It doesn't matter; we all survived. He put those thoughts behind him. As the truck left through the front gates, he turned to Schultz. "The war is over for us, Schultz."

A relieved Schultz replied," yes, Kommandant, the war is over."


	3. Schultz

"Roll call, roll call, raus, raus."

Despite signs that liberation was imminent, Schultz insisted on carrying on with his duties. The familiar banter back and forth between the guards and prisoners continued as usual.

As the prisoners re-entered the barracks, Schultz took notice of their lack of energy. He fervently hoped that everyone in camp would make it through to the end of the war.

This morning, the Kommandant had not left his office for the usual report. Not much seemed to be happening lately in camp. The escape attempts that somehow always seemed to be thwarted had mysteriously come to a halt. The odd happenings in and around camp had slowed to a trickle. In fact, the "Monkey business," as Schultz liked to call it, which had always been going on around Barracks two, had ceased. Schultz felt almost wistful about the lack of unusual activity. It had made life at the Stalag interesting.

He entered the Kommandant's office and knocked on the door, but not before sadly looking at Hilda's empty chair. She had been temporarily let go several weeks ago. Klink felt that the fighting was getting too close, and that it was safer for Hilda to remain in town.

"Come in, Schultz."

Schultz entered the office and reported that all prisoners were present and accounted for.

"Very good, Schultz."

"I would also like to report that more prisoners have been transferred to the infirmary, that we still have not received the Red Cross packages, and that Corporals Mueller and Schwarz uncovered a secret poker tournament being held in Barracks seven."

Klink looked up.

"A poker game?"

"Yes, Kommandant, with gambling, Kommandant."

"Schultz, the Allies could be showing up here any moment with Sherman tanks, and you want me to be concerned with a poker game?"

"Yes, Kommandant, I mean, no, Kommandant."

"Tell Corporals Mueller and Schwartz to man their posts and ignore any further card games, Schultz."

"Yes, Kommandant."

"Dismissed."

Schultz saluted and turned around to leave, just in time to see Colonel Hogan standing by the door.

"You may want to stay close by, Schultz," Hogan said quietly as he entered Klink's office. Shultz looked at him with a puzzled expression, shrugged, and did what the Colonel suggested. He remained outside the building and attempted to look busy.

Several minutes later, Hogan reappeared. "Wait for it." Hogan left the area and walked back towards the barracks.

"Schultz!"

Schultz re-entered the building and nervously entered Klink's office.

"You wanted to see me again, Kommandant?"

The wastebasket was filled with the cinders of burnt paper. The flustered Colonel looked up at the Sergeant. "They're coming soon, Schultz. We have to be ready."

"I'm sorry, Kommandant, I don't understand."

"Schultz, Hogan says the Allies will be here in three hours." Klink got up from his chair and nervously began to pace. "Schultz, listen. I don't want anyone hurt. There's been too much killing." Tears began to form in the Kommandant's eyes. "We'll lay down our arms and surrender. Notify the guards in the compound and the towers, Schultz. Tell the guards to abandon their posts as soon as they spot the tanks."

"Yes, Kommandant." Schultz waited for a reply, but it didn't come. He left the building and stood outside, observing the compound and the guard towers. Nothing looked different. Prisoners were milling around the yard. Guards were watching the prisoners. The same routine, over and over again. Hogan and his staff were nowhere to be seen. Schultz assumed they were over in Barracks two, keeping tabs on the advance. He sighed and walked over to the small office next to his quarters near the guards' barracks and planned his next move. He had eighty guards to notify. Eighty guards who would soon become prisoners, themselves.

Schultz methodically spoke with all of the guards in the camp. Most of the guards were either young boys or older men, all unfit for combat. A mixture of relief and sheer terror overtook the contingent. Schultz had unfortunately been through this before, but now, he was the one expected to control his men, make sure they complied with the Kommandant's orders and prepare them for what was about to happen.

"I've heard the Allies are monsters, Sergeant. They'll shoot us right here." Murmurs of agreement rose amongst the younger group of guards.

"They'll shoot us right here because of what they've seen." This observation came from one of the older guards. They had all heard the rumors of atrocities and concentration camps.

"Listen, nothing will happen. Colonel Hogan will see to it. I know it." This observation came from Corporal Langenscheidt.

More murmurs of agreement rumbled throughout the crowd. The Corporal's words got the men thinking. Colonel Hogan was as popular with most of the guards as he was with his own men.

Schultz agreed. "Colonel Hogan won't let anything happen to us." He would intervene. Schultz was sure of it.

"We don't know that. Can you talk to him?" The guards all started speaking at once.

Schultz looked at this ragtag outfit of old men and boys and agreed to talk with the senior POW officer.

It was a surprised LeBeau that opened the door to Schultz's knocking. Guards never knocked. Schultz realized immediately that the men had been up to nothing. There wasn't the usual scrambling or fake card games normally seen in the barracks. Men were just hanging around, sitting on their bunks or sorting through laundry. A few were in bed, too weak and sick to move around, but fortunately not sick enough to go to the infirmary. Kinch and Carter were missing.

"What can we do for you, Schultzie?" Newkirk approached the Sergeant.

"I need to speak with Colonel Hogan." Schultz lowered his voice. "It is very important."

"He's resting, Schultz. I don't think you should disturb him."

"Please, Newkirk. It is very important. It's about the guards."

Newkirk and LeBeau glanced at each other.

"I'll check," Newkirk said. "Wait here." He walked over to Hogan's office and tapped on the door. Hearing an acknowledgement, Newkirk entered the office, closing the door behind him. A few moments later, Newkirk opened the door and motioned for Schultz to come in.

"I'm sorry to bother you Colonel Hogan."

"It's okay, what's on your mind?"

"I want to report that all of the guards have been notified of the surrender plans, and there will be no shooting."

Hogan got a surprised look on his face. "Have you reported back to the Kommandant, Schultz?"

"I will, I forgot. I will. Colonel Hogan, the guards are afraid. They're afraid they'll be shot. The younger ones…all they know is propaganda; and the older ones, they've heard the rumors, about the camps and, well, they're afraid of revenge."

Hogan sat down at his table and gave Schultz a weak smile. "Schultz, I can't guarantee anything, but I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to make sure no harm comes to you, the guards, or the Kommandant. You have my word."

"Thank you, Colonel Hogan." What more can he do? What else can I say? Schultz turned to leave.

"Schultz?"

"Yes, Colonel?"

"Thanks for being a human being."

"You, as well, Colonel."

Carter and Kinch had both returned to the common room while the Colonel was meeting with Schultz. He knew about the tunnels, the secret entrances under the doghouse and under the bunk. Schultz had started out as apolitical and non-partisan, but it was not really true. He knew Hogan and some of his men spoke fluent German and often passed as natives in town. He was aware that Carter often dressed as a German officer and had even pretended to be Hitler. He knew the boys played games with Klink's car, and he knew Hogan was in contact with the underground. He knew all this, but decided long ago to keep it a secret, and he suspected that they knew that as well. It was his own little protest against the cancer that had taken over his country. They used him and he used them. A gentlemen's agreement, that's how he saw it.

"Penny for your thoughts, Schultz!"

"I can't use a penny, Carter."

"It's an expression. Means whatcha thinking. Thought I taught you that one."

Schultz shook his head and made a decision. A small smile appeared on his face. "Achtung!"

Nothing.

"Achtung!" Up, up. Not you, stay in bed. The rest of you." The men grudgingly stopped what they were doing and stood at attention.

"Look at this barracks. Clean it up. We're having guests."

Schultz opened the door and left the barracks, reopened the door, grabbed his rifle and then left for good.

After noting that his guards were still at their posts, Schultz headed towards the Kommandanteur. He knocked on Klink's door.

"Enter."

"Kommandant, I am reporting that I have carried out your orders as requested. The guards will lay down their arms, and the towers will be abandoned as soon as the tanks are spotted."

"Did they give you any trouble?" Klink was seated at his desk, looking at the pictures and letters that he had obviously removed from the desk drawers. The safe door was open. It was empty, and the walls of the office were now almost bare. Only the camp blueprints and Hitler's picture remained on the wall. Boxes were scattered throughout the office. The Kommandant had obviously been packing. Schultz vaguely wondered what would happen to all of the personal items in camp. He thought the Kommandant was being a tad optimistic.

"No, they did not give me any trouble at all, Kommandant. Although…"

A hint of fear crossed over Klink's face. "Although what?"

"They are afraid of the Americans, Kommandant."

"Afraid of…?"

"Retribution, revenge." Schultz said this quietly. "But I spoke with Colonel Hogan."

"And what did Colonel Hogan say?" Klink appeared a little annoyed. Schultz wondered if he had overstepped his bounds.

"He said he would do everything in his power to make sure no harm would come to any of us, Kommandant." Schultz stood stiffly and waited for Klink's response.

Klink's demeanor softened. "I believe Colonel Hogan is a man of his word, Schultz. Inform your guards that they should be safe."

Schultz observed a little more activity around the compound when he left Klink's office. Prisoners were stationed strategically around the area. Some were chatting and smoking, others were haphazardly throwing baseballs back and forth, but it was obvious to him that they were observing the guards and constantly checking the camp perimeter. The guards watched them, but did not interfere. He quietly spoke with the guards as he came across them. Then they waited.

Schultz was notified that the tanks were in sight. The guards in the towers had heard the rumbling and had frantically called down below. He ordered them down. Schultz, Klink and the rest of the Germans placed their arms on the ground and nervously waited for the first tank to roll in. He watched as Hogan greeted the first American officer to pop open the tank lid and listened to the roars of the prisoners. He and the other Germans were moved into the recreation hall where he spent most of the time calming the other guards.

Soon it came time to move the guards into the American trucks. Schultz spotted LeBeau standing in front of a crowd of prisoners who had decided to watch the proceedings. The Frenchman moved towards the line and stopped. Were those actual tears in his eyes? 

"I want you to have this, Schultz. Here, take it." It was a piece of paper.

"Cockroach?"

"Go on, take it." LeBeau stepped back. Hogan was now heading towards the convoy.

"Move it, let's go." The American MPs were becoming impatient. Schultz held on to the paper and waited for Klink to speak his final words to Hogan.

Klink climbed up and then turned to Schultz. "The war is over for us, Schultz."

"Yes, Kommandant, the war is over."

He then looked at the paper LeBeau had given to him. It was a recipe for apple strudel.


	4. Barracks 12

It would have been comical if they hadn't been locked up in a POW camp for what seemed like an eternity.

"Hurry up and wait. Should be the army's motto." Corporal Pasternak was attempting to clean the mud out of the coffee pot. "Stuck here for three years, finally liberated, and then we wait for our barracks to be called. Like a friggin' bakery!"

"Very funny." Romansky threw a pillow at the Corporal and missed.

"Our bad luck to be on this side of the compound." This came from Rogers, the barracks chief. "The lower numbers are going first."

"They should have pulled numbers out of a hat. Would have been fairer."

"War's not fair, Christopher."

"Hey, Wilson's coming!" One of the privates was looking out the window.

They opened the door for the medic and everyone started talking at once.

"Hold it, pipe down. First, you guys can start heading over to the mess hall." A round of applause made its way through the barracks. "Second, don't eat your rations too fast, or you'll get really sick. Take it slow. Got it?" The men nodded. Wilson opened the door and stood back. The men of Barracks 12 ran out and headed towards the mess hall for processing.

Johnson complained to the man in back of him. "This reminds me of boot camp. One line after another."

"They'll probably tell us to turn our heads and cough."

The line shuffled along.

"Look at those bureaucrats." Walters was referring to the men sitting at the table, taking down each prisoner's information. "Bet they've never seen a day of battle."

"They look well fed, don't they?"

"If I never see another piece of cabbage again, it won't be too soon!"

"And potato pancakes!"

Two more feet.

"Hey, does anyone know where they're taking us?"

"Heard a place on the coast of France."

"Lucky Strike camp. Big as a city."

"They have real nurses there."

"Women?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sick."

"You wish."

More shuffling.

"I'm still hungry."

"How we getting there?"

"Transports. I heard flights are taking off every five minutes."

"I heard we have to be debriefed." This tidbit came from Walters again. He was good friends with one of the barracks chiefs.

"No kidding," Christopher said sarcastically. "Everyone gets debriefed, Walters."

"No, really debriefed. May take weeks." His voice lowered to conspiratorial tone. "They'll be keeping us in quarantine."

"Why?" Jackson asked this question. He had only been in camp for about 5 months.

"Our mission, Jackson."

2 more feet.

"You taking anything with you, Pasternak?"

"Nope, I came in here with nothing, I'm leaving with nothing."

"Can I have your Grable poster?"

"Suit yourself. I don't care."

"What about you, Walters?"

"I think I actually may take that basket I made. My mom might like it."

"You made a basket?"

"Yeah, Jackson. We did ceramics, too. But the baskets…" The men started to laugh.

Jackson looked confused.

"You poor kid, you missed everything, didn't you?"

"Hey, will ya look at that! We made it!" The boys of Barracks 12 took their seats in front of the well-fed bureaucrats and filled out their paperwork. They then turned around and returned to their barracks.

"More waiting."

"Bet we're not out of here for another two to three days."

"I heard they're gonna blow the tunnels."

"Who?"

"The Colonel and Sergeant Carter."

"The Colonel will be the last one out, you know."

The men paused as Kinch's voice came over the P.A. system. "All barracks chiefs report to the rec hall."

Rogers left the hut.

The men sat and looked at each other.

"Maybe we should start packing," Christopher said.

The barracks chief returned from the rec hall with a schedule.

The boys from Barracks 12 had been ordered to stand in the compound and wait for the trucks to take them to the airfield.

"That's where I went under the gate, Jackson, when we had a fake escape."

Jackson had heard all of the stories.

"Were you scared?"

"Yeah, I was terrified."

Silence.

"Do you think Klink knew, Walters?" Jackson asked.

"Schultz did," Pasternak replied.

"Nah, he knew nothing!" Christopher did his best Schultz impression. Everyone laughed.

"Well," Jackson repeated. "Klink, did he know?"

The men stopped talking and thought about it.

"He couldn't have, could he?" said Romansky. "We would have been shot."

"Klink wouldn't shoot anybody. Throw us in the cooler, maybe but…" Walters looked towards the area where the prisoners were sent for punishment. He had been in there after his fake "escape." It wasn't that bad. LeBeau brought him dinner.

"He would have shot the Colonel, Kinch, those guys," said Jackson.

"Burkhalter would have, and then he'd have Klink shot for being an idiot." The men laughed, but it wasn't as lighthearted as before.

"Why didn't you guys go home?" Jackson asked softly. By the time he had come into camp five months ago, he had no choice but to stay. The fighting was too close and Hogan decided it was too dangerous to risk an escape. Only downed fliers were sent out, and even that was risky. Jackson spent the last five months bored out his skull, hungry, and a little scared. He sometimes wished he had been at the camp sooner. At least life was more interesting then, or so he had heard.

Why didn't I go home? Pasternak had no clue. He came into camp with engineering experience and was quickly tapped to work on the tunnels. No one had ever been killed in a collapse and he felt proud of that accomplishment.

Walters thought back to his fake escape. He shuddered. Although he knew the dogs wouldn't hurt him, they were loud and big and he was still frightened. The guards were young and nervous and one wrong move on either side… He tried to put it out of his mind. I wanted to keep fighting, I guess. 

Christopher was the type of person that preferred the known to the unknown. When told the details of Hogan's operation, he had no qualms about staying. Leaving was scarier. He had no desire to deal with being given a fake transfer, escaping from a truck that was ambushed, and trying to sneak across Germany in civilian clothes. But now he thought back to the last three years. What if someone had caught that guy sent up in the balloon, or if that fake bomb that was actually real had exploded? What if Klink hadn't been so malleable? The stories went through camp. Hogan and his main crew had been caught red-handed several times. Once, the order to evacuate had even gone out, but some nutty officer killed his boss, right in Klink's office. Suddenly, Christopher's legs felt like pudding and he almost collapsed.

"You all right, Dave?" Rogers caught Christopher before he fell.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks."

Romansky was another long-time prisoner. He was friendly with one of the prisoners in Barracks two. They had arrived in camp together almost three years ago. He and his pal often talked quietly about their lives back home, their buddies, and their sweethearts. Sometimes, his pal would tell funny stories –about the time Hochstetter danced with LeBeau, or how Schultz would be bribed with chocolate bars - but that was it. There was a lot his buddy knew but didn't say. Romansky's stomach began to hurt, but it wasn't from hunger.

A medic from the liberating battalion came over to their group of men. "We're ready for you guys. Load your stuff and then you can get into the truck." Rogers and his group made good time and were in the truck in less than five minutes.

Colonel Hogan and a few of his men were standing close to the gate. As each truck holding the now-freed prisoners approached the main entrance, it stopped.

Hogan approached the truck holding the boys from Barracks 12. They tried to scramble to their feet, but he waved them off. "At ease."

"You were as much a part of this operation as myself or my staff, or any of our underground contacts. I'm proud of every single one of you, and I'm proud to have served with you. I'm putting in commendations and promotion requests for every prisoner in this camp."

The men were speechless. Finally, Rogers managed a, "Thank you, Sir."

"I'll see you boys in France." The boys returned Hogan's salute and the truck rolled out the gate.


	5. Kinch

Kinch was manning the radio that morning. Now that the allies were closing in, he and Baker were taking turns down there, keeping a 24/7 watch, leaving their posts only for roll calls. He asked for confirmation of the message several times and, when satisfied, scrambled up the ladder.

"You all right, mate?" Newkirk noticed that Kinch was uncharacteristically out of breath.

"Are they…?" Carter did not get to finish the sentence. Kinch just nodded.

"I'll get the Colonel." LeBeau headed towards the door, but Hogan had heard the commotion and had come out.

"I just got off the radio with command, Colonel. A battalion is on the way."

"How long?"

"Three hours, give or take."

Hogan sat down. Kinch and the other men waited patiently for his next move. "I have to go see Klink." He said, and stood up to leave. "Hang tight until I get back." He looked around and noticed that Baker was missing. "Is Baker down below?" Kinch nodded. "Have him stay by the radio."

"Man..." Carter was for once almost speechless. That was all he could think of to say.

Kinch and the rest of the men waited for Hogan to return from Klink's office. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts. The whole thing seemed somewhat anti-climactic, which was odd. But their situation was odd, Kinch thought. They couldn't celebrate, not yet. After all, they shouldn't have known, should they? He wondered what Hogan was saying to the Kommandant.

Olsen was the first to break the silence. "Klink's going to ask how he knows."

"No, he'll accept what the Colonel tells him and leave it at that." At least that's what Kinch hoped.

"Nothin' he can do about it now, is there?" Newkirk was anxiously looking out the window, watching for Hogan's return. When he spotted him, he said, "Here he comes, mates; must 'ave been over to the infirmary. And he looks pretty worn out, he does. Hey, Louis, I'll bet he could use some of that coffee."

Kinch opened the door and stepped outside, instantly noticing the look of relief on Hogan's face. They went into the building and took their seats around the table. LeBeau brought the Colonel a cup of coffee.

"Thanks, LeBeau," Hogan said gratefully. He took a sip. Kinch was on pins and needles, and he was sure everyone else felt the same, but they waited. Finally, the Colonel spoke. "He's surrendering. The guards will put down their arms as soon as they see the tanks." Everyone breathed a sigh a relief.

"What's next, Colonel?" Carter asked. "Wire the tunnels?"

"No," Hogan replied. "Not till the fat lady sings." Everyone chuckled. "Let's keep a man on the radio and the phone tap, and let's have some men posted outside. Newkirk, Carter, round up some men from the other barracks and set up sentries. Have them watch the perimeter and the guards in the compound."

"Right, sir." They left.

Kinch looked at Hogan with concern. The man looked sick, really sick. "Sir, perhaps you should go lie down. You want me to get Wilson?"

"No, I'll be fine…but I'll go lie down, for an hour." He gave Kinch an unspoken look that said, "Satisfactory?"

Kinch had to be satisfied. "Go ahead, I'll mind the store." He headed back down below.

"Colonel?" Kinch had snuck quietly into Hogan's office and had found Hogan fast asleep on the lower bunk. Newkirk had mentioned that Schultz had been over, and had insisted on speaking with Hogan about the guards. Hogan had apparently reassured Schultz, and the Sergeant had left; confident of their safety, if not their future. "Colonel? It's Kinch. You have to get up, sir."

Hogan came to and rolled off the bunk. "It's time?"

"Yes, sir. They haven't been spotted yet, but we've gotten word they're right outside of Hammelburg."

"Let's go." The barracks was empty. All of the men were outside. The prisoners were milling around the yard and keeping tabs on the guards. They noticed the presence of Kinch and their C.O. and looked for instructions. Kinch motioned to them to hold their ground. It was about ten minutes later that Hogan and Kinch saw the first sign; a guard frantically calling down to the ground. Within minutes, Schultz was ordering the guards to abandon their posts and congregate in the yard. The prisoners and guards then found themselves grouped together on opposite sides of the compound. Kommandant Klink slowly walked out of his office and headed towards Hogan and his men.

"Colonel Hogan, we are surrendering. Schultz, open the gates."

The next few hours were a frenzy of activity for Kinch and the rest of Hogan's staff. Once the Americans entered, they easily took control of the Germans, who were removed within a few hours. Now the work to evacuate the 900 prisoners would start. Fortunately, Hogan had assigned the medic, Joe Wilson, the task of working with the evacuation teams. Carter and Newkirk were in the barracks sorting through papers and packing up items from the tunnels. LeBeau was working with the medics on the food situation, and Kinch was ready to head over to Klink's office for a meeting with the American Captain, Hogan and Wilson. How the hell are we gonna get all these men out of here? Was his only thought.

The first thing on the agenda was passing information to the men in the camp. He had suggested setting up the P.A. system last used for announcing that stupid boxing tournament. It took Kinch and a technician a while to get it working, but finally Hogan was able to make an announcement. Kinch smiled as he heard the cheers. The next few minutes were spent discussing plans, where the men were heading, and being ordered by Wilson to get some rest. Yeah right, Kinch thought.

"I think I need to go back to the barracks," Hogan said tiredly. "Paperwork. Got to make sure they're not burning anything important. Kinch, can you stay here and work with the Captain?"

"No problem, sir." He watched Hogan leave and then turned to the Captain. "This is your show. What do you need?"

LeBeau danced through the office door and came to a dead stop in front of Kinch, interrupting his sorting through the prisoner files. "Louis?"

"I brought you some lunch."

Kinch paused from his work and grabbed the plate. It smelled delicious. "Where'd you get this?"

"I made it out of the rations. Go ahead, taste it."

Kinch took a mouthful. After two months of short rations, it tasted like heaven. "You are a true miracle worker."

"You'll visit my restaurant after the war?"

"You bet. Hey what's going on in the barracks?"

LeBeau's face fell. "That's another reason why I came over. Do you know where Wilson is? He's not at the infirmary."

"Probably checking the barracks. What's wrong?"

"It's the Colonel. He's coughing. We think he should be seen. Oh, the Colonel also wants you to announce a meeting for the barracks chiefs over in the rec hall. You need to bring them up to date.

Kinch thought for a second. "I'll call for Wilson over the P.A. He'll be over."

"Merci, mon ami." Kinch had never seen LeBeau in such a good mood. It was almost contagious. He smiled and made his announcements.

The next few days at camp resembled an organized circus. Lines of prisoners were registered at the mess hall and then sent out in truckloads. Kinch, LeBeau, Newkirk and Carter were working almost around the clock with the liberation force to get the camp cleared and prepared for demolition. Colonel Hogan, under dire threat of being evacuated with the sick prisoners, had capitulated to Wilson's demands and agreed to rest. He had, however, insisted on seeing each truck out, speaking with the prisoners before they went through the gates.

It was after the first few truckloads, that Hogan turned to Kinch and said, "Find LeBeau and have him come to my office, and tell Carter and Newkirk to come up."

Several moments later, LeBeau was standing in front of the Colonel. He looked at Kinch. Kinch had no idea what Hogan wanted, so he just shrugged.

"Why are you still here?" Hogan asked.

Now, that was not what Kinch expected to hear. From the look on LeBeau's face, it was not what he expected to hear, either.

"Excuse, me, Colonel?'

"You should have gone out with the first group."

"I was busy, with the food, you said…"

Hogan interrupted. "The French were ordered out first, in the first group, after the guys from the infirmary."

Kinch now realized what had happened. DeGaulle and Eisenhower had made an agreement to have French prisoners repatriated as soon as possible. It didn't impact their Stalag that much. There were only a few French prisoners, but LeBeau rightfully should have been on the first convoy. Technically, he was in trouble. He had disobeyed orders.

LeBeau didn't care. He would not leave now. And what could the Colonel do? Demote him to private? He chuckled at the thought. He couldn't, could he? Two different armies.

"Something funny, Corporal?"

"No, sir."

It was at that moment that Kinch noticed it. The slight upturn of the Colonel's mouth, the slight twinkle in the eye.

Carter and Newkirk had finished their work in the tunnels and were listening outside the door.

"I didn't know LeBeau was supposed to leave, did you, Andrew?"

"No," Carter answered. "The Colonel must be feeling better. He sounds mad."

"Shush," Newkirk replied as he strained to hear the conversation.

While LeBeau stood there, puzzled and with nothing to say in his defense, Hogan quietly moved towards the closed door and opened it without warning, surprising Newkirk and Carter as they fell into the room.

Kinch let out a small laugh, then quickly shut up.

The Colonel took a seat and motioned for the men to do the same. "Now that I have you all here, I just want to say…you can leave with the rest of the barracks."

He's joking, Kinch thought. "They're leaving this afternoon, Colonel. We're not ready."

"I'll stay. The wires are set. I can start the fuse. I've got some stuff to clean up here. Besides, I won't be alone. They'll be some guys left from the battalion."

Kinch knew what they were all thinking. There was no way they would leave their C.O.

"I'll stay, Colonel. Louis and Peter can go. They've been here the longest."

Newkirk protested. "No way, Carter."

"I want to stay, Colonel. Once I get to France, I'm almost home." LeBeau was almost in tears. "Kinch should go. He's been working real hard."

"You've all been working hard. I've been kind of out of commission lately, and well, it's time." Hogan looked down at his hands. "That's an order," he whispered. "Besides, I'll see you in France. It won't be long. The debriefing will probably last as long as the war." He joked.

Kinch could not let this continue. "Sir, you can have me court-martialed, but I'm not leaving."

Louis stood up. "Moi, aussi, Colonel."

Carter and Newkirk also stood their ground.

Hogan looked at all of them and smiled. "There won't be any court-martials. You win." The men didn't move. "Go on, get busy. Go!"

Kinch went back to his post next to Hogan, watching the trucks roll out the front gates. Barracks two had been emptied and now Hogan was saying his good-byes to Wilson, the medic. Another stubborn one. But he was usually right. Kinch observed the last fruitless attempt by Wilson to mother Hogan. Now he was asking to stay. This time there were no arguments. The medic left on the last truck, only after Carter assured him that he'd take care of his favorite patient. Kinch waved. "We should be there in a few days, Wilson. Maybe, tomorrow." They all walked back to the barracks together. Within a few days… perhaps the next day, Kinch hoped; the fuses would be set and the tunnels would be blown. Then, they would all walk out the front gates, together.

A/N Mucho thanks to Janet for her beta and help with Newkirk's dialogue!


	6. Carter

Carter's stomach was growling again. He could never remember a time in his life when he had ever been this hungry. To make matters worse, he and his buddies were eating whatever their German captors were giving them. There wasn't enough food to go around for LeBeau to work his magic. The only consolation, he thought, was that the guards in the camp were also starving.

Carter was also bored. He had borrowed some of Kinch's books, crocheted a scarf, and attempted to play Louis' harmonica. Now he was trying to set off a chain reaction of dominos. The team hadn't been out on a mission in weeks. Espionage and sabotage had come to a complete standstill now that the fighting was closing in. Occasionally, a few downed airmen would swing through, alleviating a bit of the monotony, but for the first time since he had been captured, life in Barracks two was consistently dull.

He and his best friend in Stalag 13, Peter Newkirk, looked at each other. Newkirk was in the middle of losing his tenth straight game of solitaire. He gave up and started to build a house of cards. "What are you staring at?"Newkirk was getting testy.

"Trying to find something to do."

"Count your detonators."

"Did that last night." A thought popped into Carter's head. "You need any sewing done? Or maybe ironing?" Carter was desperate. He hated to sew.

Newkirk gave up on the house and started shuffling. "No. How 'bout checkin' all the guns?"

Olsen piped in. "Did that yesterday afternoon." He hopped down from his bunk and went over to LeBeau, who was sitting in the corner of the barracks, humming. "Louis, what are you doing?"

"Writing my recipes down." Louis had managed to scrounge up bits and pieces of paper from every corner of the barracks. He had probably stolen some from Klink's office as well. "In case there's a fight, I don't want them lost. That would be tragic."

Hammond, who was occupying himself by trying to recite all of the state capitals, broke in on the conversation. "You're kidding. Why would there be a fight?"

"Heard on the radio…some camps… broke out." Baker, who was trying to sleep, piped up. He and Kinch were taking turns listening down below.

"Oh, that's just great," Carter said. He could see it now. Spying, blowing up bridges and buildings, impersonating Germans, even Hitler, working with two armies at the same time, and I get killed on the last day, probably by friendly fire. "Just great." It was at that moment that the bunk entrance to the tunnel opened and Kinch came tearing up the ladder.

"You all right, mate?" Newkirk noticed that Kinch was uncharacteristically out of breath.

"Are they…?" Carter did not get to finish the sentence. Kinch just nodded.

"I'll get the Colonel." LeBeau headed towards the door, but Hogan had heard the commotion and had come out.

Three hours later, Carter stood with his friends outside Barracks two, and watched as American tanks rolled into the compound. An hour after that, Carter was down in the tunnels, supervising other prisoners as they started running wires throughout the complex. It was a long and tedious process. First the tunnels had to be cleared of the important equipment and papers that were coming with them. Guns and ammunition were inventoried and checked, and handed over to the battalion. The radio equipment, printing apparatus and counterfeit operations were all moved up top.

You see, Newkirk," Carter was explaining to him, "In an emergency evacuation…like in our drills, these wires were already in place and set. All I needed was to set the detonators and BOOM. But, boy would that be messy. But, the Colonel wants this done right. It's got to be neat or…"

Carter noticed that Newkirk's eyes were glazing over. Newkirk had asked his friend for help in salvaging what he could in the sewing room.

"I'm sorry, Newkirk. Do you want to keep these?" Carter was investigating a rack of disguises that included women's clothes, hats, a nun's habit and civilian suits used to outfit escaping prisoners.

"What?" Newkirk looked up from the box of make-up that he was sorting. "No, I prefer not to remember any of this, if it's all the same to you."

A voice called into the room from another part of the tunnel. "Hey, guys? They're moving the Germans out."

"We should go up, Carter. See Schultzie off."

Carter smelled something unusual has he headed up the ladder into the barracks. Is that real food? Nah, couldn't be. There was LeBeau, humming again. Everyone was dog-tired, sick, or both, and the Frenchman was in a state of nirvana. "Louis, did you do something to those K-rations?"

"Oui, mon ami." He danced over to the Sergeant and held out a spoon. "Taste."

"Boy." Carter swallowed slowly. "What did you do to this?"

"A secret. Come to my restaurant after the war and I'll give you dessert." He patted Carter on the arm and grabbed a plate. "I have to take this to Kinch."

Carter grabbed a morsel off the plate. "Did you give some to the Colonel?" Hogan must have been in bed. "Might perk him up."

"Non." LeBeau looked hurt. "Said he couldn't eat."

"Here, wait one minute. Let me try." Carter grabbed the plate, knocked softly on Hogan's door and then went in.

"Sir?" Hogan was on the bottom bunk, unsuccessfully trying to contain a coughing fit. Carter noticed he looked feverish. "Sir, I brought some food. Louis made it, it's really good…"

"Not hungry." Hogan coughed. "What's the status with the wires?"

"Um, getting there, sir, but…if you don't eat, you'll get sicker." Carter pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed. "Do you want some help?"

"Save it for someone who'll appreciate it," Hogan said weakly. "I'll stick with the rations."

Carter looked up. Louis was standing at the door, shaking his head. "Hang on, sir." Carter handed the plate back to the Corporal. "Go find Wilson," he whispered. He returned to the bunk and sat back down.

Hogan rolled to his side and attempted to get up. "Carter, isn't there something you need to do?"

"No, sir. Not at the moment." Carter was lying, but he was getting concerned. The Colonel was usually on top of everything. For him to hand control over in this kind of situation was scary. "I know, how about something hot to drink? We've got some tea, finally."

"Ugh, give it to Newkirk." Hogan shuddered.

"No tea. Okay then. Um, soup?"

Hogan shook his head. "Carter, I'm fine. I'm not dying. Go do…what did I tell you to do again?"

Oh, brother. "Sir, I really think…"

"All barracks chiefs please report to the rec hall on the double. Sergeant Wilson, please report to Barracks two." It was Kinch's voice on the P.A. system.

Oops, Carter thought, knowing that Hogan had heard the announcement. I'm in for it. "Why don't you lay back down, Colonel?" Carter attempted to fluff his pillow.

"You called for Wilson?" Hogan started coughing as soon as he lay back down. "Tell him to forget it. He's too busy."

"Technically, sir, no, I didn't call for Wilson." Carter started backing out of the room. "That was Kinch. You know, he sounds really good over the P.A. I think he should go into broadcasting. Don't you? I'll be going now. Lots of work, in the tunnels." He shut the door and found Newkirk and several other prisoners staring at him with bemused expressions. "I tried. I give up. I'm going back down."

Carter spent the next few days working around the clock to help get the camp cleared. Wilson's ministrations helped, and the Colonel was now on the mend. He and Carter were seated around the table in Hogan's office, sorting through papers and photographs.

"Hey, look. That's the picture of Schultz in front of the antiradar device. Can I have this, sir?"

"Sure," Hogan answered. "Here, put this in the burn pile. Hey where'd this come from? Who took this?"

It was a picture of the three USO girls who had spent time in the camp.

"Newkirk did. It's a good thing we didn't get a picture of the three of you dressed up in…"

"Never mind." Hogan grabbed the picture and stuck it in his pocket.

"Ooh. General Burkhalter. You need this, sir?"

"No, burn it." Hogan replied. He stopped and looked at a photograph. "Wow, will you look at this."

Carter picked it up. It was a picture of Hogan and his main team standing together by the door of the barracks, smiling like they had just completed a successful mission. Carter could not remember it being taken.

"I think we were testing that new camera," Hogan said. "Baker took this. He was hiding behind one of the barrels."

"Oh, yeah. I remember now. It was what, about two years ago?" We all looked a lot younger. "Boy, I wish we had the negative." Carter couldn't remember seeing it when he and Newkirk cleaned out the photo lab.

"Do you want to take this one, Carter?"

"No, sir. I think you should take it."

Kinch poked his head in. "We've got more trucks leaving, Colonel." Hogan insisted on speaking with the evacuating prisoners before they headed out.

"I'll be right there, Kinch." Hogan slowly got up from the chair. "Thanks for your help, Carter. You really stepped up to the plate the last few days."

"No problem, sir. I'm just glad you're feeling better." Carter watched Hogan leave and then stared at the photograph.

Carter was attempting to reassure Joe Wilson that it was safe to evacuate with the last truck. "We'll take care of him, Sarge." The medic was concerned about the Colonel's health. Meanwhile, Carter was still astonished that the Colonel had actually ordered him, Kinch, Newkirk and LeBeau out, while there were still things to do and tunnels to blow.

"Do you think he really meant it, Peter? Sending us ahead without him?" The two men were packing up the last remnants of their personal belongings.

"'E really didn't mean it. I think he knew we wouldn't leave, all along. But it's just something he 'ad to say. Besides, Andrew, you 'ad to be here to start it off; the explosion, I mean. Otherwise, it wouldn't be right." Newkirk playfully slapped Carter on the back.

"It'll be the last explosion. I mean the last one I'll ever set, Peter." No more, ever. Did he understand? Did any of them understand?

"You're right, mate." Newkirk started dragging the foot locker towards the door. "C'mon, help me with this. Let's get it on the truck."

The four men waited for Colonel Hogan to finish his last inspection of the tunnels. Carter waited impatiently for him to head back up the ladder and give his okay.

"Here he comes." Kinch stepped towards the ladder, ready to help Hogan climb up the few final rungs.

Looking at Carter, Hogan quietly asked, "How much time do we have?"

"Ten minutes," Carter replied.

"It's a go. Let's get out of here."

Carter set the last charge and the five of them left the building.

Ten minutes later, from a safe distance, Carter heard the boom. The sound cascaded through the woods. The medic riding with them jumped. None of the five former prisoners moved a muscle. None of the five former prisoners made a comment. It was over.

Carter never set off another explosion.


	7. Wilson

Medic Joe Wilson watched his C.O. slowly make his way over to the infirmary. Hogan had just left Kommandant Klink's office and Wilson was hoping for some good news.

"Didn't I tell you to stay in bed?"

"You don't look so good yourself," replied Hogan.

"Touché. What's the word, Colonel?"

Hogan smiled. "Three hours, Joe. Three hours."

Wilson left the infirmary in the hands of his assistants. He wanted to watch as Klink and the guards were loaded into the transport trucks. He had mixed feelings as he watched Klink exchange a few final words with Hogan. Part of him was ecstatic at the thought of seeing their captors leaving, but he also strangely felt a little apprehensive on their behalf. Wilson knew that conditions at Stalag 13 were probably better than at any other prison camp. This was due in part to its smaller size, clandestine help from the outside, and Klink's inherent humanity. Klink could be an insufferable egotist at times, but deep down, he was basically a bureaucrat trying to survive as best as he could. Wilson had observed that, as the war dragged on and on, Klink had become less and less of a German apologist. Wilson attempted to shrug his apprehension off.

Hogan stood silently as the trucks left the compound and then turned to the Sergeant.

"Do you think Klink had any idea, Colonel?"

Hogan shook his head. "No. I really don't. At least I don't think he did. I can't imagine what he would do if he found out the truth."

"Sergeant Wilson?" A Corporal from the liberating battalion had come up behind him.

Wilson turned around. "Yes, Corporal?"

"Sergeant, as soon as these Krauts are out of here, we'll be bringing in the medical units and evacuation teams."

Hogan had asked Wilson to help the battalion with coordinating triage and medical treatment. Setting up an organized evacuation of over nine hundred prisoners would not be easy. Coordination was necessary to prevent chaos.

Wilson escorted the medical team over to the infirmary. The building was overflowing with sick and malnourished soldiers. It had been several months since the camp had been supplied with full rations. As the allies moved further into Germany, supply lines had been cut and the food shortages began. With malnutrition came weakened immune systems. Respiratory infections and gastrointestinal diseases had hit the camp hard.

The men in the camp had suffered psychologically, as well. Hogan's operation was beginning to wind down and the prisoners were getting restless due to lack of activity. The waiting for the inevitable liberation just added to the tension and anxiety.

Yeah, Wilson thought. Papa Bear's operation had given all of the prisoners a purpose. Somehow, despite the danger, it made life in camp a little more bearable for all of the young men "stationed" at Stalag 13. He shook off his introspection. There was a lot of work to be done before the camp would finally be empty.

Once Wilson had familiarized the medical teams with his worst cases, he hurried over to Klink's former office. Hogan, Kinch and the battalion commander were meeting there to discuss coordination, and what would be the next step. He walked in as Kinch and a technician from the battalion were readying the camp public address system.

"I think it's ready for you now, Colonel." Kinch made another quick adjustment and stepped aside. Hogan walked over and tapped the microphone, eliciting an unnerving screech.

"Oops." He jumped back.

"Sorry, sir." Kinch tweaked a dial. "Try it now."

Hogan tapped it again and then cleared his throat.

"Attention. Everyone, listen up!" Hogan paused a few seconds and then continued. "I know you're all anxious to get out of here."

Wilson could hear the cheers ringing throughout the camp.

"However, if we don't do this right, the army and I will come down on you real hard." Hogan paused again. "I need everyone's cooperation if this is going to work. The army will be bringing in teams to coordinate the evacuation. They've done this before and, as I said, I expect total cooperation. First, everyone needs to report back to their barracks. We'll be calling barracks in to the mess hall by number order to begin processing. Dismissed." Hogan handed Kinch the microphone and flopped down in a chair.

"Well now," Hogan looked at the American Captain who had first greeted the Colonel when the tanks rolled in. "Where do we start?"

"If I may, sir?"

Hogan nodded.

"First, sir, I've been given a direct order from Allied headquarters that you should be given total command of the camp." The Captain handed Hogan a set of papers. "I've been briefed on your situation, but let's just say that, regarding the rest of our force, well, it's on a need-to-know basis."

"Where will the men be headed and how long do you think it will take to evacuate the camp?" Hogan asked.

"A Lucky Strike camp near the French Coast. We've been sending all of the released POW's there. There's one thing, sir, that's a concern."

"Go ahead."

"Well, we've had problems in some of the other camps. The POW's have gotten restless, and we've had one instance where some left and hitched their own rides out."

Kinch smiled. "I guess they decided to take matters into their own hands."

Hogan reassured the Captain. "We won't have a problem. These men are disciplined."

"I understand. They would have to be, considering your situation. The other thing is, once we get your men to the camp, we've been ordered to place them under a form of quarantine until they can all be debriefed. Sort of special treatment, sir. Everyone's been ordered to go through with this. I'm sorry."

"I expected this." Hogan did not appear surprised.

Wilson broke in with a thought."That's a lot of men to quarantine, Captain."

"The camp is huge, Sergeant. They can handle it. Oh, once we start processing here, we'll be able to start rolling out the trucks. We'll be taking the men to an airfield. They'll be flown out to France from there. The time frame depends on how fast we can process everyone, and also on the weather. Oh, and Sergeant Wilson?" The Captain looked at the medic. "I know you're concerned about the men in the infirmary. Those that are stable will leave first. We'll have medical teams here to help you with the rest, but since the hospital facilities in France are top-notch, we'd like to be able to transfer the men as soon as possible."

"Thanks, Captain." Wilson turned towards Hogan and asked to be excused, but not before he ordered Kinch and Hogan to get some food, fluids and rest; realizing, of course, that two out of three was the best he could hope for.

"Where are they taking us, Sergeant?" Wilson had returned to the infirmary to check on the progress of his patients. Most of them now began to show signs of improvement. Over the last several hours, the battalion medics had been delivering fluids, penicillin and rations to the soldiers. They were now getting some of the boys ready for transport.

"You'll be going to a base in France, son. I hear they have real nurses there." That managed to elicit a smile.

"Nurses? As in female?" The Corporal in the next bed had overheard the conversation.

"That's right," Wilson replied. "I have it on good authority that they also have hot showers."

"Sergeant Wilson?" A young private a few beds over got the medic's attention. Private Glassman had been quite ill and Wilson had feared that he wouldn't make it. Colonel Hogan had actually come into the infirmary and had sat with the private for hours, talking with him, trying to boost his morale. Klink had even paid a visit. Wilson went over to Glassman's bed.

"What is it Glassman?"

"What about my buddies, sir? From my barracks?"

"Once we get you guys out of here, the rest will follow. They have planes leaving constantly. Try not to worry. You'll see them at the camp in France. But, it may take a few days."

Wilson spent the next several hours continuing his visits and trying to reassure the men. He thought it was odd to see their apprehension. The celebration and elation that had hit the camp earlier had actually died down. The familiar camp routine had now been replaced by a beneficent bureaucracy that was attempting to safely process and transport 900 prisoners as fast as possible. Any change in routine in what had been a dangerous situation still made these men somewhat suspicious. Wilson also suspected that some of the prisoners were in shock at the sudden change of events. Although the liberation had been anticipated for weeks, no one had really known what would happen once it came. He continued his rounds, and then prepared to check on the processing in the mess hall and to visit some of the barracks.

As Hogan had said, the camp was well-disciplined. The men had returned to their barracks as ordered and were somewhat impatiently waiting to be called down for processing. Wilson was being barraged with questions from many of the men.

"Don't wolf that food down or you'll get sick. Just eat a little at a time." The prisoners had received extra rations from the liberators and were eagerly eating whatever was in the packages. Wilson made a mental note to have medics check on the food situation in all of the barracks. The last thing he needed was more soldiers taking up room in the infirmary. He thought about suggesting to Colonel Hogan that he call a meeting of the barracks chiefs.

Fortunately, the Colonel was one step ahead of him. "All barracks chiefs please report to the rec hall on the double." This time, it was Kinch speaking on the PA system. "Sergeant Wilson, please report to barracks two."

"Sorry fellas." Wilson was over in Barracks fifteen. "I have to go. Take it easy, and remember what I said about the food. And drink!"

"Where is he?" Wilson had quickly grabbed his medical bag and hurried over to Barracks two.

"He's in there." Newkirk pointed to Hogan's office. "He's been coughing." Wilson knocked softly, waited and then walked in. Hogan was sitting on the bed. Wilson could tell he wasn't feeling well.

"Lie down and let me look at you, Colonel."

"Remind me not to let Kinch near a microphone."

"Kinch actually has some common sense, Colonel."

Hogan lay down. Wilson took his temperature. Slight fever.

"What's the situation with the men in the infirmary, Joe?"

"Under control. The battalion medics and my assistants are working on getting them out." Wilson took out his stethoscope. "Breathe."

Just as I thought…could be pneumonia. No surprise. Definitely dehydrated.

"How's your stomach, Colonel? Holding down the rations?"

"Yeah. I miss LeBeau's cooking." Hogan laughed.

"Don't blame you," Wilson replied. Here's where he gets stubborn. " Colonel, I'd like to move you into the infirmary, and then out of camp."

"Not a chance."

"Sir…I can overrule you, you know that."

"I'll be the last one out, Wilson. Everyone, including you, goes first. The men deserve it. No way." Hogan struggled to get up. "We have to clean up the operation and blow the tunnels."

Wilson pushed him back down. I should sedate him for a week and send him back to the states. Leavenworth can't be as bad as this place. The medic sighed. It would be at least 3 or 4 days until they got to that point. They had to evacuate the entire camp first.

"All right, you win. Here's the deal. You stay here, in bed. I'm going to bring over an IV. You're dehydrated. You also need an antibiotic. You're on the verge of developing pneumonia, if you don't have it already. Any sign that you're getting worse, you're out." Wilson waited. "You know, Colonel, you've got a great staff. Let them do their jobs."

Hogan looked up at Wilson. "Deal. Get me the penicillin. I'll see how it goes."

"Glad to see you see things my way. I'll be back in a few minutes." Wilson left the door open as he left the room. "See that he stays in bed, guys. He'll be out with the rest of my patients if he doesn't behave."

"You got it, Sergeant." There were thirteen men in the barracks. Good odds.

Wilson returned, took care of Hogan, and then headed to the infirmary. The first batch of patients were being readied for transport.

"I'll see you guys in France." Wilson watched the medics load the stretchers onto the evac. trucks.

"Don't take too long, Sarge! All the nurses will be gone!" The men were starting to make jokes. That was a good sign.

"Take it easy." He watched the trucks leave and then continued his rounds. The line into the mess hall was beginning to snake around the building, and prisoners were beginning to lose their patience.

Barracks 12. They were next.

The prisoners had seen him coming. They opened the door for the medic and everyone started talking at once.

"Hold it, pipe down. First, you guys can start heading over to the mess hall." A round of applause made its way through the barracks. "Second, don't eat your rations too fast, or you'll get really sick. Take it slow. Got it?" The men nodded. Wilson opened the door and stood back. The men of Barracks 12 ran out and headed towards the mess hall for processing.

Wilson waited patiently by the front gates. The last load of prisoners were about to hop onto the trucks. It had taken three days to empty the camp. Only Hogan, Kinch, LeBeau, Carter and Newkirk were staying. Hogan was still weak, but the antibiotics had seemed to help his cough and bring down the fever. Wilson had argued with him, again, but to no avail. Hogan insisted on finishing the operation himself. He had even ordered his men to leave, but thankfully, they refused.

"I really think I should stay, Colonel."

"Told you already, Joe. No. We have some medics left here. We'll be fine."

"I…"

"You're needed in France. Check on the men, make sure they're okay, will ya? They're probably being bombarded with questions from the brass." Hogan's tone was clear. No disobeying this order.

"Yes, sir."

"We'll take care of him, Sarge." Carter tried to reassure the medic.

"We should be there in few days, Wilson. Maybe tomorrow." Kinch added.

Hogan remained silent. He and Wilson exchanged a knowing look and then, after a salute, Wilson got on the truck.

The five men watched as the last truckload of freed allied prisoners left through the front gates.


	8. Newkirk

For as much as the French corporal was abnormally chipper, the English corporal was abnormally quiet. Actually, contemplative was a better word to describe Newkirk's mood. The day before had been a whirlwind of activity. Once the tanks had rolled in, Newkirk had not a moment to himself. He and Carter had been working down in the tunnels for hours, determining what needed to be salvaged, supervising the movement of equipment up top and sorting through supplies. Now this evening, Newkirk found himself finally able to take a breath. He searched out a quiet corner way from the organized chaos that had overtaken Stalag 13, sat down on a bench outside the barracks, lit a cigarette and took stock. A line of impatient prisoners was snaking outside the mess hall, waiting their turn to register. Wilson was at the infirmary, supervising the evacuation of the last group of sick prisoners, while Colonel Hogan and Kinch were at the gates. Newkirk supposed the Colonel was giving the evacuees a pep talk before their trucks rolled out.

And now that Newkirk had a moment to think, he found himself wondering what he would be going back home to. The thought, now that it was really time, was scary. His city was a mess. His country had been overrun by American soldiers and was now facing an economic disaster with no end in sight. He had no job to return to. His best friend was dead, killed in the Blitz when a bomb destroyed a tube station filled with East-Enders seeking shelter from the nightly raids. The East End, his real home, had taken the brunt of the damage. He had no idea how many people that he had known were now gone. Hell, he didn't even know if he could find his old neighborhood. And now, years after the horror, the Nazis had hit again, sending rockets of death down on unsuspecting civilians.

Blimey, you sod! Shut up! Newkirk got up and started to walk. Your mum is fine, your sis is fine. At least we weren't occupied. Now he felt guilty. He walked into the barracks and looked over at his French buddy. Now there's someone who should be depressed, not you. Doesn't even know if he has a family left. LeBeau was still humming. He had suddenly developed a good mood and his disposition had become more and more cheerful as each day came and went. Louis always had plans. He'd go back to Paris and open a restaurant.

Newkirk turned to the youngest member of their team. "What's your plan after the war, Andrew?"

"Go home!"

"I figured that, mate." Newkirk couldn't help rolling his eyes. "What else?"

"Back to the pharmacy, I hope, and then back to school."

Newkirk always assumed Carter would readjust easily to civilian life.

"What do you think the Colonel will do, Peter?"

"Fly. Private pilot, maybe." The Colonel had mainly kept quiet about his private life. The prisoners often talked about their families and their plans after the war, but as far as they knew, the Colonel had parents and siblings back in Connecticut and that was about it.

"I don't know." Carter started tossing the papers that they had sorted into the stove. "He's career army."

"Three years in this place would be enough for any career." Newkirk reached over, grabbed more paperwork and thought about Kinch. Now what was he going back to? He thought. His phone job? He shook his head. The radioman would probably get a promotion or commendation…and for what? To be sent back to work in a segregated army? If it were him, he wouldn't go back. He'd go to France or even England. But Kinch also had a family, as well.

"Peter? You all right?"

"What? Just thinkin'."

"About after the war?"

"We've talked about that."

"Headliner at the Palladium, right?"

Newkirk smirked.

Carter walked over to his friend. "Let's go for a walk. Come on."

"Nah, if it's all the same to you. I've got to…"

"Let's go for a walk." Carter was insistent.

"Suit yourself." Newkirk followed Carter out the door. The camp had shut down for the night. A few prisoners were milling about, enjoying the luxury of being allowed out of their barracks after nightfall. The lights were on in the Kommandant's former office. Kinch, Hogan and the Battalion commander were probably going over the plans for the next day. Newkirk assumed Wilson was over at the infirmary or he would have bodily removed the Colonel and shoved him back into bed. He smiled at the thought.

"So, want to talk about it?" Carter asked. "Something's bothering you."

"I was one of the first ones sent to this bloody hellhole." Newkirk kicked at the dirt.

"I know. Lots of years wasted."

"I haven't seen my mum or sis in almost five years."

"Scary, isn't it?"

"What?"

"You adapt to something, even something as bad as this and then all of a sudden you know it's gonna change and you don't know what you're going back to, how you're gonna handle it, what's there, whatcha gonna do afterwards. Stuff like that."

Newkirk stared at Carter in amazement. How'd the kid know?

"Right. It's stupid. I was scared every stinkin' day here, once we started with the gov'nor and all."

"Me, too."

"I feel like such a bloomin' sod. People 'ad it worse. Hell, all of Europe's 'ad it worse."

"Hey, Peter. Don't feel guilty. If anyone should feel guilty, it's us Americans, I mean. Except for Hawaii, we weren't attacked. We weren't bombed. I always knew my family was safe. You and Louis, you had to be scared for them all the time. I don't know how you could stand it."

"Everyone's got a plan, 'aven't they? I 'aven't a clue what I'll do when I get back home. The East End's a mess. Some of my friends are…"

"I know. You can always stay in the RAF!"

Carter looked so sincere, Newkirk had to laugh. "You're daft!" He hit his friend playfully on the head. "Not unless hell freezes over!""

The two men had now circumnavigated the entire camp. Hogan and Kinch were leaving the office. "Everything okay?" Hogan asked.

"Fine, Sir. Just 'avin a chat with me mate."

"Let's head in for the night. Busy day tomorrow." Hogan motioned for them to follow.

"Right, Sir. Be right there." Newkirk and Carter paused outside their barracks and watched Hogan and Kinch enter the building.

Carter sat down on the bench outside the door. He leaned back, put his hands behind his head and looked at the sky. "Go back to your family and then wait. Something good will come out of it. You'll see."

"Won't know til it 'appens," Newkirk replied quietly.

"Well, it won't be tomorrow." Carter chuckled. "We got to get out of here first, then go through debriefing. Give us both time to get used to the idea of going home."

"Suppose you're right." Newkirk suddenly had a thought. He knew Carter hadn't had the chance to see London before he was shot down. "Say, when we get back to England, I can show you around. Do a pub crawl, maybe meet my mum and sis."

"Really?" Carter's face brightened. "I'd like that."

"Thanks for listenin', Andrew."

"You bet."

"We'd better go in." Newkirk held his hand out. Carter grabbed it and popped up off the bench.

"Feel better?" Carter asked.

"Who said I wasn't meself?" Newkirk gave the younger man a playful jab. "Why? Don't tell me you've been tryin' to cheer me up, 'ave you?"

"Never mind." Carter smiled to himself as they both walked through the door.

A/N This chapter is an homage to my father. He lost his best friend in the Blitz, when a tube station used as a shelter took a direct hit. Much of his old neighborhood, including his school, was in ruins. Members of my Grandfather's family were also killed. England did have severe economic problems long after the war. After serving in the Royal Navy for the duration, my father joined the Merchant Marine and served on the Cunard line. In 1949, he and his family emigrated to the States to find better opportunities. There was no G.I. bill available to British veterans.


	9. LeBeau

The end was in sight. Finis. That had been LeBeau's mantra now for the last several weeks. The fiery corporal swept away the tension and managed to keep his irritability in check, while tempers flared throughout the rest of the camp.

Convinced that his new found attitude would boost his bunkmate's immune systems, he focused on being a mother hen, coaxing them to go outside for air, mixing meager rations together in unrecognizable combinations to get them to eat, singing French tunes as he worked.

He visited the sick in the infirmary. He inventoried every scrap of food. LeBeau volunteered for every rescue mission outside the Stalag. Although now few and far between, it kept him busy and focused.

LeBeau could tell that his good humor was rattling the men in his barracks. They were unused to this behavior and it made them slightly suspicious. This encouraged the Frenchman even more.

He was puttering around the common room, humming to himself, while the other men were attempting to stave off boredom.

"Hey, LeBeau, stop that blasted humming! It's getting on my nerves." Garth covered his head with a pillow.

"You just don't know what is good for you, mon ami. Wine, music and women; that's all a Frenchman needs to be happy!"

"Well, we've got none of that, LeBeau."

"Certainment. We have music, Olsen. It relieves tension." LeBeau took out his harmonica. "How about a round of Frère Jacques."

"Cor Blimey." Newkirk headed for the door, while several prisoners pummeled LeBeau with pillows.

Hogan staggered out of his office. "Anything?"

"Non, mon Colonel. Kinch is down below. Tea?" LeBeau headed for the stove.

The Colonel rolled his eyes. "No, I'll float away if I drink anything else." He turned and headed back for his office. "I'm going back to bed. I hate tea," he grumbled.

Later that evening, LeBeau snuck into Klink's office and pilfered every scrap of paper that he could find. He was sure Klink wouldn't miss inventory lists and supply requisitions from the previous year. Stuffing them in his pocket, he made his way back to the barracks and prepared to start on his next project.

Morning roll call was an unusually subdued affair. The usual bantering seemed somewhat half-hearted. Several of LeBeau's bunkmates were now sick and the Colonel had worsened during the night. Schultz finished as fast as possible and hustled the prisoners back into the barracks. LeBeau hung behind and grabbed the Sergeant before he could take off.

"Schultz, any chance we can get something to make some soup?"

"Cockroach, if I had anything to make soup, you would be the first one I would tell."

The rest of the morning continued to be quiet. Prisoners were coming up with numerous ways to keep busy, without driving each other crazy. Olsen hopped down from his bunk and went over to LeBeau, who was sitting in the corner of the barracks, humming. "Louis, what are you doing?"

"Writing my recipes down." LeBeau had managed to scrounge up bits and pieces of paper from every corner of the barracks. He added that to the supply of paper stolen from Klink's office. "In case there's a fight, I don't want them lost. That would be tragic."

Moments later, LeBeau watched as Kinch came flying through the bunk entrance to the tunnels with the news that the troops were on the way. A short while later, he sighed in relief when Hogan returned from his meeting with Klink with news of a planned peaceful surrender.

"Hey Louis, your recipes will be safe!" Carter joked. "We can all sleep tonight!"

"Très amusant." LeBeau rolled his eyes. "I need these for my restaurant." He started shoving the papers into his foot locker.

Later that day, LeBeau watched as the American battalion started loading the guards into the trucks. He walked over to the last truck in the convoy where Klink and Schultz were waiting to take their place among the defeated Germans. For some reason, LeBeau's eyes were tearing. He quickly wiped them and then walked up to the Sergeant.

"I want you to have this, Schultz. Here, take it." He tried to hand Schultz a piece of paper.

"Cockroach?"

"Go on, take it." LeBeau stepped back. Hogan was now heading towards the convoy.

"What did you give ol' Schultzie, LeBeau?" Newkirk had also been watching the proceedings.

"My recipe for apple strudel."

"That was nice of you, Louis." Carter said.

LeBeau shrugged. "It's the least I could do. After all, he saw plenty and didn't say anything."

"Good point." Carter agreed. "Come on. Let's go, we've got work to do."

Carter and Newkirk headed for the tunnels, while LeBeau walked over to the Battalion medics to discuss the food situation. He had volunteered to help organize the food rations and distribute them to the camp population. Truthfully, he was actually hoping to get a first peek at the rations in hopes that he could whip up something edible.

He did. After his lunch was rebuffed by a sick Colonel Hogan, a rejection that saddened the Corporal, he made his way to the Kommandant's office, where Kinch was working. Thankfully, Kinch complimented the chef and LeBeau walked away happy and vindicated. Later that afternoon, LeBeau bade his French compatriots' farewell. Thanks to an agreement between General Eisenhower and DeGaulle, French prisoners were given the first opportunity at evacuating the liberated camps. They waited for the sick to leave and then checked in at the mess hall.

"You should come with us, Louis." A French barracks chief was supervising his chatty and overexcited men. "It's been too long."

"Non. I need to help with the final closure, Didier." Louis had long ago made up his mind to stay till the bitter end. After years of being a member of Hogan's main team, he would not abandon them now. "They'll be eating sawdust if I leave," he joked.

"But that would be an improvement over the last few months!" Didier laughed. "Seriously, Louis, I think the Colonel would understand."

"No." The Colonel was still sick, and Louis was concerned. But he didn't want to discuss it here. He was also anxious to find out if all of his relatives were safe. Last he heard, the ones in the South of France were fine. In fact they had offered to play host to the Colonel, when LeBeau and the others thought he needed a vacation. However, he had his immediate family in Paris and cousins scattered all over the country that he had not heard from in ages. No, his decision was still made up. "Didier, what's another 3 or 4 days after 5 years?"

"Loyalty is important as well." His friend obviously understood. "We will see you in France, then."

"I will see you in France." LeBeau said good-bye and again, humming to himself, headed for the kitchens to check on the food supplies.

LeBeau spent the next few days continuing to help with the food supply and trying unsuccessfully to get the Colonel to eat. He was headed over to the mess hall when he was interrupted by Kinch who informed the Corporal that the Colonel wanted to see him immediately. "Is he all right?" LeBeau asked anxiously. Wilson had gotten his hands on the Colonel and the last time he had checked, Hogan appeared to be a bit better.

Several moments later, LeBeau was standing in front of the Colonel. He looked at Kinch. Kinch had no idea what Hogan wanted, so he just shrugged.

"Why are you still here?" Hogan asked.

Now, that was not what LeBeau expected to hear. From the look on Kinch's face, it was not what he expected to hear, either.

"Excuse, me, Colonel?'

"You should have gone out with the first group."

"I was busy, with the food, you said…"

Hogan interrupted. "The French were ordered out first, in the first group, after the guys from the infirmary."

LeBeau realized he was in trouble. He knew he had disobeyed orders and so he began to nervously shift from one foot to another, but then stopped. He didn't care. He would not leave now. And what could the Colonel do? Demote him to private? He chuckled at the thought. He couldn't, could he? Two different armies.

"Something funny, Corporal?"

"No, sir." While LeBeau stood there, puzzled and with nothing to say in his defense, Hogan quietly moved towards the closed door and opened it without warning, surprising Newkirk and Carter as they fell into the room.

Kinch let out a small laugh, then quickly shut up.

The Colonel took a seat and motioned for the men to do the same. "Now that I have you all here, I just want to say…you can leave with the rest of the barracks."

Kinch protested. "They're leaving this afternoon, Colonel. We're not ready."

"I'll stay. The wires are set. I can start the fuse. I've got some stuff to clean up here. Besides, I won't be alone. They'll be some guys left from the battalion."

Next, the men all started volunteering to stay while the others went before them.

"I want to stay, Colonel. Once I get to France, I'm almost home." LeBeau was almost in tears. "Kinch should go. He's been working real hard."

"You've all been working hard. I've been kind of out of commission lately, and well, it's time." Hogan looked down at his hands. "That's an order," he whispered. "Besides, I'll see you in France. It won't be long. The debriefing will probably last as long as the war."

Kinch could not let this continue. "Sir, you can have me court-martialed, but I'm not leaving."

Louis stood up. "Moi, aussi, Colonel."

Carter and Newkirk also stood their ground.

Hogan looked at all of them and smiled. "There won't be any court-martials. You win." The men didn't move. "Go on, get busy. Go!"

The four men made a hasty exit out of Hogan's office, then held a pow-wow outside before disbursing.

"I thought I was in for it." Louis started laughing. "That man is as stubborn as…as…"

"As you?" Newkirk chimed in.

"Nah, worse." Carter chuckled. "Louis, I never thought I'd see you sweat in front of the Colonel like that."

"I almost lost it when you two fell through the door when the Colonel opened it."

"You 'ad us come up, Kinch," Newkirk reminded him. "Remember?"

"Yeah, well, who told you two to listen at the door! You could have knocked!" Now Kinch started to laugh and it was contagious. The four men laughed until it hurt, and with the laughter went three years of almost constant terror and tension. The fear had always been hidden underneath a blanket of jokes, diversions, and the idea that the operation was a big game. But the men had always known better and now the stress had nowhere to go but out. The last few months had been the icing on the cake. Inactivity created time to think and ponder the what-ifs and the hunger and illness that had cast a pall over the camp overwhelmed the former espionage unit. Then their seemingly indestructible commander had also fallen victim to the deprivations and had taken ill when the end was in sight. They hid their deflated morale from the rest of the camp and from each other. Now, the time had come for release.

"Phew," Carter was wiping the tears from his eyes. "I haven't laughed that hard since, well, I don't remember. No wait, it was after you three dressed up as women."

Newkirk gave him a dirty look. "Since Louis danced with Hochstetter. I 'ad to hold me self back when we set that up."

"Louis, you two made a nice couple." Kinch laughed again and then started to choke.

"Non, mon ami, the best was when you went to Paris with the Colonel and you said he was a mute!"

"You're right. Man, you should have seen the look on his face! I was afraid I'd wake up the next morning as a Corporal." Kinch recalled.

"Having a laugh at my expense?" The four men hadn't noticed that the door to the barracks had opened. The Colonel had quietly snuck out and had heard the last part of the conversation.

"Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir." LeBeau and the rest quickly snapped to a not-quite-perfect form of attention.

"We were just going over our next step, Colonel. Stuff to do, right guys?" Kinch attempted to take the heat off.

"You were just letting it out." Hogan smiled. "It's okay. Look, years from now, you'll be telling these stories to your kids and the rest will fade away. At least I hope it will." He wrapped his arms around his bomber jacket, then looked at Louis. "LeBeau, you think you can swing something for me to eat?"

Elated, the Frenchman swung into action. "Oui, mon Colonel. Right away!" Joyfully, he headed towards the mess hall kitchen to whip something up.

"All our stuff is packed and loaded on the last truck, Colonel," said LeBeau.

Hogan went to check on the tunnels for the last time. The men waited patiently for him to finish and for Carter to set the detonator.

Looking at Carter, Hogan quietly asked, "How much time do we have?"

"Ten minutes," Carter replied.

"It's a go. Let's get out of here."

Several tanks, a few jeeps and a medical evacuation truck were waiting outside the Stalag. There were only a few men left from the original battalion that had liberated the camp. Orders from General Eisenhower's staff had informed them that Colonel Hogan, the ranking POW officer, was in command and that the camp was to be demolished. No questions asked.

They waited for the last five prisoners.

Hogan, Newkirk, LeBeau, Carter and Kinchloe stepped up to the front gate. Hogan addressed the American lieutenant standing at the entrance. "We have ten minutes."

"I understand, sir." Instinct told the lieutenant that offering assistance to any of these men at this stage would be pointless.

He stepped aside.

Newkirk, LeBeau, Carter, Kinchloe and then Hogan walked out of the Stalag through the front gates. They never looked back.

Ten minutes later, from a safe distance, they heard the explosions. The medic riding with them jumped. None of the five former prisoners moved a muscle. None of the five former prisoners made a comment. It was over.


End file.
